


ascension (there is no 'i' in coup d'état)

by whilst



Category: Chinese History RPF, Empress Dowager Cixi: The Concubine Who Launched Modern China - Jung Chang
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilst/pseuds/whilst
Summary: When Empress Zhen was handed the thin slip of paper, written in scarlet ink by the Emperor's own hand and sealed with tape and wax, she did not know that she was being handed the future of a dynasty. At the time, it had only contained the fate of a friend.Empress Zhen and Noble Consort Yi have always gotten along, but in 1861, on the cusp of regency, things were far from certain. The fate a dynasty is not an easy burden for any relationship to bear but the historical trajectory of China depends on it.





	ascension (there is no 'i' in coup d'état)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [athersgeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athersgeo/gifts).



> Empress Dowager Cixi = Noble Consort Yi = Concubine Yi = Noble Lady Lan  
> Empress Dowager Ci'an = Empress Zhen  
> The Xianfeng Emperor (Cixi's husband)  
> Zaichun = the Tongzhi Emperor (Cixi's son)  
> Grand Prince Gong = Prince Gong  
> 8 appointed regents:  
>         Imperial line: Sushun (leader); Duanhua (Prince Zheng); Zaiyuan (Prince Yi); Duke Jingshou;  
>         Minsters: Muyin; Kuangyuan; Du Han; Jiao Youying

When Empress Zhen was handed the thin slip of paper, written in scarlet ink by the Emperor's own hand and sealed with tape and wax, she did not know that she was being handed the future of a dynasty. At the time, it had only contained the fate of a friend.

   
   


The Mountain Villa of Chengde had always been beautiful in the summer, refreshing and light and sprawling, cooled by the mountain air and passing summer storms. In the winter, it was a very different story. The chill seeped through the waxed windows and doors, crept through the halls of imperial residents as silently as an assassin, dared to rest at Empress Zhen's feet each night.

In the Hall of Cool Mists and Ripples, Yanbozhishuang Hall, the cold slowly ate away at the health of the Xianfeng Emperor. Loathing the foreign invaders, he had refused the entreaties of all to return to the capital, favouring his hatred for the British and French over the petty needs of the flesh. Every day was colder than the last, and although he declared more than once his determination to depart, each time, he would change his mind, indulging in opera and dying by inches. In time, perhaps, the very winter that was killing him might preserve his body before could be properly laid to rest in Zunhua.

Empress Zhen waved her hand, banishing the unlucky thought, and in the same breath, summoned her sister. While the Emperor wasted away, the needs of the empire continued and within the Inner Palace, no one understood this better than Noble Consort Yi.

The Garden of Dawn Contemplation was as cold as the residential palaces, but it offered some of the open spaces Sister Yi loved so dearly, and with them, some measure of privacy. After the way their last meeting had ended—in harsh words and high emotions—Zhen could hope for a little peace, and, yes, a little distance too. Yi might still have been angry with her, but they were still sisters, and still co-conspirators, besides.

They took one of several winding paths together. Had Zhen ever been so aware of who led and who followed. Did they now lean in so closely as they once had done?

"You must have them summon Prince Gong," Yi said to her several minutes into their walk. Her sweet daytime smile was gone, and in its absence, her gaze was as piercing as the winter air which she did not seem to feel. Zhen was too disciplined to shiver. "If you cannot convince His Majesty, then you must convince his council. Tell them that to do otherwise would be to deny devotion and heavenly order, that his presence will reassure the imperial family, that the seat of power will lose face, say whatever you need to, only you must convince them. Before any other step, we must have Prince Gong."

"I have been working on them," Zhen replied, "They are still wavering, and soon I will ask them again, only, remember," she adds with urgency, "you must not ask them yourself."

"I will not," Yi said, honey and vinegar in her voice. "I trust in your talent with people." _Unlike you_ , Zhen heard.

A silence ate away the seconds where Zhen did not return the sentiment, while in the distance, the crown prince and his sister played at chasing birds watched over by a flock of eunuchs. 

"How should we broach the subject, do you think?," Yi mused, softly enough that it might have been only to herself. "We won't have much time and it would be easy to give the wrong impression. Prince Gong is loyal and unambitious, but I'm sure he will see things our way."

"Prince Gong is loyal," Zhen replied, "but he is first loyal to the nation. We will not be able to couch it any other way." To herself, she thought that Yi had been wrong earlier: before any other step, there must be the crown prince. 

Little Zaichun was five years old and still in awe of his sister; in the distance, he danced, mimicking her half-dance, half-walk, to his caretakers' vocal delight. Zhen smiled at him. Yi did not. Her mind was set on more distant things. Wasn't it always?

Yi launched into an animated analysis of the British and French—cultural this time, their apparent hierarchies and taste for chaos and Chinese trade. They were both all too aware than Zhen's input was not much needed here, that it was Yi's vision first and foremost that could save their troubled dynasty, but that did not mean that she had nothing to contribute. As Empress, Zhen had not balanced the complex politics of the Inner Court without confidence in her skills in managing others. Let Yi worry about the British and the French and how best to guide all of China. Only Zhen could ensure her the support she would need to get there.

   
   


"We're going to need reassurance," Zhen said as Yi arrived the instant they were alone. Yi sat beside her behind an elegant silk screen in an unhasty motion. There had not been opportunity for Zhen to give notice but neither woman would seem rushed. "We're very worried about when we can return to Beijing. We're very worried about the state of the city since we left it. The worry is affecting our health and cannot delay."

Yi's eyes widened, but she had only ever needed the barest of hints, so she did not ask if Grand Prince Gong had arrived at last and she did not ask if Zhen means for them to meet with him together. Instead she only said, "Which ones?"

Zhen, who might not sense every slight eddy in a stray word, nonetheless knew Yi well, so she understood her meaning. "Prince Yi, Zaiyuan, has such a fear of the enemy, he has only been sympathetic to our apparent worries. Sushen is more suspicious, but his wife is genuinely concerned and I predict he will be one of the first to relent, and the others will follow."

"Prince Zheng, Duanhua?"

Zhen shook her head. "Sushen is hard-headed about foreign policy, but soft to the concerns of women, and his brother can usually be counted on to follow him. This is not a political matter."

Yi nodded, taking her at her word, and she thrilled at the show of faith. How easy this could still be! How little was needed for them to act as one! Surely the future was already secure! Yi, apparently on an entirely different line of thought, scowled ferociously and the delicate spring depicted on their separating screen. No doubt brooding over the treasonous cowardice of their approaching guests.

Zhen opened her mouth to remind Yi that she must sound frightened and not angry, but she was interrupted by the announcement of arrival of the senior officials they were here to convince. Their audience had began.

   
   


The flush of victory colored Yi's cheeks and Zhen felt her own face warm as the last lingering fingers of fear loosen their hold on her shoulders. Grand Prince Gong's foreign policy might be more flexible than their late husband's, but he had the backbone they needed for their goals. Zhen could hear it. Yi could hear it. He would support them.

"In one more meeting, we'll have him," Yi said, nearly laughing, dismissing Zhen's handmaids with an imperious gesture. They barely remembered to wait for Zhen's nod of approval, but she could hardly blame them. "I could hardly dare hope Grand Prince Gong would be so cooperative, but any reasonable politician must! We cannot hide any longer, he must see that this is an opportunity we must all seize. We are the best allies he could hope for."

"We," Zhen echoed, and regretted the loss of Yi's passionate gestures at once. "Wait, little sister." Zhen swallowed. "I have something important to show you."

The pet name did the trick and Yi's expression softened. "Did the Department of Rites reply to you with a solution?" she pronounced each word slowly like the gunpowder load it was. As though the balance of future power between them was something so easily solved as an audience with Grand Prince Gong.

Zhen fumbled, uncharacteristically graceless now that the decision had been made, drew Yi into a seat beside the candle-lit desk. "Not yet, although I believe the Minister of Rites understands my—our—intentions." Tucked in a lacquered nanwood box was the order that had been passed on to her so many years ago. It was unwrinkled but still gave the appearance of great age, soft cloth worn with worry. The descendant of generals, Zhen did not have Yi's literary abilities, but she knew some words and, in particular, she knew these characters written in the hand of their late husband with a morbid intimacy.

_To be terminated._

The missive was not long, but there was a strange gravity to its simplicity. There were no details specified for how this order was intended to be carried out, but the coldness of the order was apparent. As Yi read and each second dragged on in silence, Zhen found her mind was blank, filled only with a sense of resolve. Of confidence in this choice.

"It's addressed to you," was all Yi said when she finally looked up from her death sentence. 

"I was to give it to the Board if you showed signs of political ambition. The Emperor feared you would meddle."

The corner of Yi's mouth twitch up reluctantly and Zhen's lips unconsciously follow. The absurdity of their present positions 

"How long have you had this?"

"During the Taiping and Nian rebellions. You were only fifth-rank Noble Lady Lan then."

Yi grimaced at her former title. "So all those times you've suppressed me…" Her fingertips were white, and then, even seemingly even to her own surprise, she returns the missive to Zhen.

With the air of ritual, Zhen held it over a candle until it caught alight.

"No longer," Zhen says. "You were right. I've known all along that you were right. No matter what we learn from the Ministry of Rites, the empire needs you."

The empire needs me, but you were also right." Yi's eyes glitter in the flickering light of burning paper and her smile is terrifying. There is no one Zhen trusts more. "China needs me... and I need you."

   
   


_Epilogue (sort of)_

A precedent would be found: when the Shunzhi Emperor had passed six generations ago, both his empress and the crown prince's mother were titled Empress Dowager, although his son's relationship with his regents could serve as a warning. The Two Dowager Empresses would rule together, on and off, for the next 20 years.


End file.
